


Spoken Fears

by MildlyRebelliousMint



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, not anyone important but still, rip that one guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-31 04:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildlyRebelliousMint/pseuds/MildlyRebelliousMint
Summary: Heroes in Crisis scene for Cassandra (but it's not a single panel without dialogue).





	Spoken Fears

**Author's Note:**

> I write stuff for Cass more than I would have thought
> 
> unbeta'ed cause I didn't really want to bother anyone with 200 words. even though. I totally have done that before. I can't wait to notice my glaring errors sometime next week

Cassandra sits. The camera doesn’t say anything. Neither does she.

Barbara said to use this as an opportunity to say what she’s afraid to say to a person. The idea is foreign. She can speak now, but the words and feelings and images and movements don’t connect to words. Not naturally. She has to think, to sort them. She doesn’t talk the way Stephanie does; slotting thoughts into place, using the words like glue. Cassandra’s words are a clunky translation.

She stares at her fingers. _What she’s a afraid to say._ She doesn’t know words, but she knows fear.

“Dick fixed Tim’s collar,” she says. It sounds like nothing, because it _was_ nothing. “Just… Instinctively. He kept talking.”

The room is empty and unbreathing.

“One movement,” she mutters, “Barely a thought.”

She sees every opportunity. One second and pain and warm blood on her fingers and Tim is gone. Tim is gone and Cassandra is choking on fear, it’s his and it’s hers and it’s real and she can’t breath and -

And it isn’t Tim. _Wasn’t_ Tim.

Her breaths are all she can hear. In, out, in, out.

It isn’t anyone. Not now. Not again.

“I don’t kill,” she tells no one.


End file.
